


Little Things

by Be_eating_you



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 20:24:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2201886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Be_eating_you/pseuds/Be_eating_you
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky considers how things have changed while Steve (tries to) give him a haircut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Things

It was the little things that got to him. He thought about that fact as Steve ran his thick fingers through his hair. Steve didn’t used to have thick fingers. They were thin, boney and cold. The fingers that he felt rubbing against his scalp now were warm, strong and thick. Steve’s hands easily matched Bucky’s for width now. Bucky watched one of those strong hands reaching to the side for the scissors, and he thought about how Steve used to cut his hair.

When things were different. When they were normal. 

The last time Steve had cut his hair had been before he left for Basic Training. Steve’s hands had been shaking, his boney fingers curled around the shining silver of the dull scissors. He’d been nervous, had insisted that Bucky should go to a proper barber but Bucky had refused. Steve cut his hair. That was how it had always been. In truth, he enjoyed the physical contact. He enjoyed the way that Steve’s thin fingers felt when they ran through his hair. It seemed like such a silly thing, but it was something Steve did every time before cutting. He’d brush his fingers through Bucky’s hair at least three times. Sometimes, Bucky had wondered if Steve knew how much he liked that small bit of contact. Most of the time, though, he had just dismissed it as a habit. 

Steve had a pair of scissors with a plastic handle in his hand now, and he was running his thick fingers through Bucky’s long hair. Once. Twice. He paused on the third time, Bucky’s hair tangled around his knuckles. 

“You’re tense, Buck. Do you need me to stop?”

There was concern in Steve’s voice. That was something else that was different. It wasn’t that Steve had never been concerned for him in the past, of course, it was just that he wasn’t used to being the one that needed that concern. At least not in the way that he needed it now. 

“No,” Bucky’s voice caught in his throat and he swallowed hard, “…yeah.”

Steve took his hand away immediately, setting the scissors down. Bucky heard him licking his lips before he spoke, “Do you want to talk about it?”

It was the little things… and the words weren’t coming. Bucky shook his head, focusing on drawing slow breaths. If he could focus on his breathing, he could stave off the panic. It seemed ridiculous to feel this way about something as simple as the feeling of Steve’s fingers. He’d had time to adjust, but it just made things seem harder. There was guilt attached to the fact that he missed the Steve he had known before the war had changed them both. 

“That’s alright,” Steve’s voice got softer and he sat down beside Bucky, “you don’t gotta. Not until you’re ready.”

Bucky felt a helpless smile tug at his lips. He’d heard that particular phrase a lot, and it always sounded like a platitude. When you’re ready. He wasn’t sure that he was ever really going to be ready. He couldn’t find a way to say that, or that he felt like Steve’s words were now hanging between them in an attempt to placate him. There was no way that he could tell Steve it was little things that he could never change. And trying to tell him that his memories had been permanently placed on a disorienting shuffle would just be useless.

He could learn to cope. He could find a new normal amidst everything that was changed in his life. Bucky reached for Steve’s hand, tugging it until his fingers were back in his hair. For a moment, Steve resisted, but then he seemed to understand. He started to run his fingers through Bucky’s hair slowly, his large palm occasionally resting against the back of his neck to give a gentle squeeze. Even if he occasionally regurgitated platitude, Steve was there. 

It was the little things that were going to get him through it all.


End file.
